Great Florida Cattle Drive–Days Away

January 22, 2016 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Genealogy, Great Florida Cattle Drive 2016, Travel 11 Comments

We are literally days away from our participation in the Great Florida Cattle Drive of 2016. Chuck and I have been preparing for this 1850s reenactment, where several of our state’s cattlemen will drive 500 head of Florida Cracker cattle over 50 miles.
We plan to walk the drive. You can read my first post about the adventure here. We have been planning this since October.
Training began right after Thanksgiving. The first week we walked a mile a day and increased it at least a mile each subsequent week. We are now walking eight miles a day, five to six days a week. That is about how far we think we will travel each day on the drive.

We’ve also been doing it in trail boots. No athletic shoes are allowed on the trip. Also, no bright colors, which means almost all athletic shoes would have been disqualified anyway. What is it with all the neon colors on adult athletic shoes?

We’re taking rain gear because there is forecast two possible days of rain. It can get quite cool on Florida’s prairie, so the rain jackets will also come in handy as windbreakers.

We expect daytime temperatures in the 60’s and 70s with nighttime in the 50s, with the exception of one evening when it will dip down into the 40s. We’re Floridians which means we’re thin skinned, so “brrrrrr”.

A Prairie in Florida.

They asked us to wear either period clothing or western wear while on the drive. I am taking two long pioneer-style skirts and several white blouses. I also packed two pairs of jeans and a couple of flannel shirts in case it turns cool. It gets pretty windy on the prairies of interior south Florida. Most days, I will be dressing similar to the ladies in the photo below.

Everything we take including our tent, sleeping bags and clothes will have to fit into two duffles which can weigh no more than 60 pounds each. Our home office, where we’re packing, looks like a garage sale threw up in there. It ain’t pretty.
A few days ago while some of the grandkids, ages 3 to 9 were here, we pitched the new tent in the backyard. It was super easy compared to the old one.

We told them all about the cattle drive and what we would be doing. Our seven-year-old Lucas finally said, “Why?” Chuck replied, “Lucas, I keep asking myself the same question.” Chuck and I both laughed, but the kids looked confused.
One of the duffels is waterproof or at least we thought it was. I spent yesterday patching it. I have successfully patched my waders before, so I feel fairly confident I can patch this too. We’ll need this duffel for the rain forecasted days.
I’ve been thinking a lot about book’s characters, expecially Mary’s mother Elizabeth. Mary was about seven when they migrated along with a foundation herd of cattle from South Carolina to Florida in the late 1820s. Her mother was almost 30 and had had several children already.

I don’t think she was pregnant during the trip, because the next child was born about a year after they settled. She did have a baby less than a year old with her, whose birth was recorded in Colleton District, South Carolina in 1827, the same year they traveled.

Her children who traveled with her were all seven and under, three girls and two boys. Mary was her oldest.

I’ve tried to pattern my wardrobe after what I think Elizabeth may have worn. I imagine Mary had to grow up quickly in order to help her mother take care of the younger children.

Can you imagine having five young children and a husband to cook and care for while traveling over 400 miles? That was how far it was, if they used the only trail available to them at that time?

This trail or road went through the Augusta area, then the Macon area, and finally came down north of Tallahassee on the Old Hawthorne Trail through the Cairo, Georgia area. It is believed that they then took a road around the north end of Lake Miccosukee into Jefferson County. There were still Seminole Indians in North Florida, but it was peaceful at the time.

Look for updates from the Cattle Drive next week, but I have two possible problems, neither of which are Indians. One is having service, as I may not be able to receive an internet signal in this part of Florida. The other problem may be maintaining a charge. There is no electricity on the trail, but I have borrowed several portable chargers.

Photo by Carlton Ward Jr. www.carltonward.com

We leave on the trail Sunday, and we arrive at our destination the following Saturday with a “Frolic” planned at the trail’s end. I’ve invited all our kids to come and bring the grandchildren, as the Fiesta will be family friendly. I’m not sure, though, any will make the long trip down the state for the four-hour occasion.
Watch for my updates. I’ll do the best I can to keep you updated from the drive.

The Movie “Youth” & Our Trip to Switzerland

December 8, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Movies, Travel Leave a Comment

Years ago, Chuck and I had an opportunity to visit our son while he was stationed in Stuttgart, Germany. The three of us took a trip down into Switzerland and hiked around a village called Gimmelwald. The village was high upon a cliff, and we got there by loading our luggage into a lift which rose 1,500 feet from the floor of the valley. Rick Steves suggested this area.

Our Bed and Breakfast in Gimmelvald

Gimmelwald then was a tiny farming village of approximately 130 residents. The year was 1999, and I was a young 45 years old. The quaint village had traditional log cabin architecture, no cars, no television, and lots of blond-haired children and livestock. The lift was also used by bungy jumpers, and we watched one jump over 500′. I remember thinking 100′ or 500′, what is the difference? You would be just as dead if it broke.

For the next several days we hiked from village to village and sometimes we caught the train to places higher so we could hike back down. We were especially awed by the scenic views, the pastures, the mountains, and valley. I felt like twirling around and breaking out in a song–something like “The hills are alive….”.

Sometimes we would hear a crack and get to watch an avalanche in the far distance on the other side of the valley. We crossed meadows and pastures. We were told that in Switzerland the pedestrian has the right of way even through private property. You’re allowed to cross any pasture or any fence, and we did.

So this past weekend while I was in Atlanta, I saw this preview of the movie “Youth”. Michael Caine, who plays a composer, sits and conducts the cattle with their bells to a melody that only he hears.

This scene reminded me of one afternoon while we were hiking near Gimmelwald. Chuck, Jeff and I followed this trail to the next village and hiked even higher when all of a sudden we heard what sounded like hundreds of tinkling chimes. There was a breeze, and we weren’t exactly sure from where the sound came.

We looked all around for the source, but all we could see down in the distance was one lonely log cabin and a barn. There appeared to be no chimes, so we hiked farther finally walking over a hill and up to a meadow where there were dozens of cattle. Each had a bell around its neck, and then we knew from where the sounds had come.

The sounds floated through the cool mountain air, and the moment was magical.

My friend Sylvia Alderman and her husband hiked in Galacia, Spain last September and heard the same sounds. She videoed the experience. It is linked below.

I think I will like the movie “Youth”.

Training for a Cattle Drive

December 2, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Genealogy, Great Florida Cattle Drive 2016, Travel 5 Comments

“What does she mean she’s training for a Cattle Drive?” Honestly! That is exactly what Chuck and I are getting ready to do, but it will take some time and much planning

So I guess I better back up and start from the beginning. My decision for this next great adventure comes from two different directions.

First, I’ve always wanted to go on a cattle drive? Hasn’t everyone? I grew up watching all those westerns with the cowboys sleeping on the range under the wide open skies full of stars and coyotes howling from far away.

Well, this is Florida; and it is little known that we have cattlemen and cowmen, wide open places, prairies with big skies, and even coyotes.

Florida Cowmen Herding Cattle

Seminole Indian cowmen herding cattle – Brighton Reservation, Florida. 1950. Black & white photoprint, 8 x 10 in. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory. <https://www.floridamemory.com/items/show/69965>, accessed 30 November 2015.

Here are some more little known facts. One Florida ranch owns the largest brood cow herd in the entire nation. Florida is a cow/calf state where our primary crop is calves shipped to other states to be finished and processed into beef. We are home to four of the ten largest cow/calf operations in the US.

http://www.greatfloridacattledrive16.org/cow-hunters-crackers-and-friends

Florida has the longest history of ranching of any state in the US. Florida’s landscape was once a vast area of grazing lands. When the Spanish came to Florida they brought their long-horned Andalusian cattle with them, and some escaped to survive in the wilds of our state. These cattle are called cracker cattle.

Cracker Steer

Cracker Steer, Great Florida Cattle Drive, 2016. http://www.greatfloridacattledrive16.org/cow-hunters-crackers-and-friends

Just before Florida became a territory in 1819 and a state in 1845, cowmen from South Carolina and Georgia came here bringing with them their foundation herds that interbred with the wild cattle. By the mid 1800s cowme ran large herds on Florida’s extensive open range in central and south Florida.

During the three decades after the Civil War, Florida was the nation’s leading exporter of cattle.

Penning Cattle

Owen, Blanton, Collector. Cattle in their pens at Buck Island Ranch- Lake Placid, Florida. 1984. Black & white photonegative, 35 mm. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory. <https://www.floridamemory.com/items/show/107784>, accessed 30 November 2015.

So, I know I’m romanticizing this cattle drive thing, but so what! I still can’t wait.

More important, though, I believe this cattle drive can help me write about Mary and her family’s migration from South Carolina to Florida.
For those new to my blog, Mary is the main character in my book, “Palmetto Pioneers.”

She came to Florida as a six-year-old girl with her family, who were cattle people. They brought some of their foundation herd with them, so they drove their cattle and came down by wagons from the Colleton District near Charleston, SC all the way through the state of Georgia and into north Florida where they settled near Monticello. They made the trip about 1827.

1890s Cattle Drive

Cattle drive at Bartow. Florida, 189-. Black & white photoprint, 8 x 10 in. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory. <https://www.floridamemory.com/items/show/26412>, accessed 30 November 2015.

Years ago, I studied the Oregon Trail and read about other great migrations. What I learned is that many of these people did have the opportunity to ride in wagons, but wagon riding is very rough. It basically causes everything from general soreness to bruising.

People usually got out and walked. Their journals are full of stories about how they basically walked all the way to Oregon, Utah, California or wherever they were going.

Great Florida Cattle Drive ’95. http://www.greatfloridacattledrive16.or

So when I learned about The Great Florida Cattle Drive, ’16, a once every decade event, I registered us.
Chuck and I signed up to walk it. It is about 40 to 50 miles, at about ten miles a day with one rest day toward the end. Their website is here.
Of course, one doesn’t go on a cattle drive every day, so Chuck and have to train for this. We’re already assessing our gear, such as dragging out the 25-year-old camp tent. I’m thinking it is finally time to retire it and get something smaller and lighter.
Also, we have to either wear period clothing or western wear. This is a reenactment of an 1850s cattle drive.
I’m thinking about what Mary’s mother might have worn for the journey from South Carolina to Florida.

State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory. Accessed 30 Nov. 2015.<https://www.floridamemory.com

I may try to reenact her outfit, but I think I’ll take along a pair of jeans and a western shirt in case I just can’t stand it anymore.
And of course, most important will be our shoes. My daughter, who blogs at “A Pixie Dusted Life”, just posted 4 Things Runners Need To Know About Their Shoes, so I’m taking notice of her tips. I won’t run the 50 miles, but we won’t be able to stop on the trail either. We’ll have to keep moving, so foot wear will be key. Her advice comes at a good time.

The cattle drive will be at the end of January. Here is a link for photos from the two prior drives. By the way these photos were taken by a young man named Carlton Ward, Jr. Check out his website here.

Carlton Ward, Jr. is a conservation photographer and an eighth generation Floridian from a pioneer ranching family. His beautiful photographs documented Florida’s often unseen world of cowmen who every day ride out to their herds on over 15,000 ranches, which raise nearly two million head of cattle.

We are so proud of this native son who has captured on film this living legacy of our long history of ranching.

Ward, Jr., Carlton, Photographer. http://www.greatfloridacattledrive16.org/photos-by-carlton-ward-j

I’m so looking forward to this adventure!! Of course, about day two or three, we’ll see how I feel then. I plan to blog from the trail each day if I can get a signal.

A Different Type of Thanksgiving

November 23, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Family Life, Travel 2 Comments

We live in the Deep South, so deep that we’re all the way down here in north Florida. We have Indian Summers that last sometimes until well into late November, and sometimes we camp even until Thanksgiving, something my family used to do when my parents were still living.

One year we loaded up the motor home and several tents and drove to Torreya State Park west of Tallahassee. We looked forward to hiking the high steep bluffs over the Apalachicola River…

High Upon the Bluffs of the Apalachicola River

…and down into the deep ravines.

Only my family didn’t call it hiking, we called it walking. I can still hear my Dad say, “Come on Cindy, let’s go for a walk”. I think it was really designed to give my Mom some relief.

Instead, when we got to Torreya, it began to rain. And it rained, and rained, and rained. Undaunted, we took our umbrellas and walked the forest trails. We gazed at the exceptional scenic vistas. We helped Mama prepare our Thanksgiving feast.

Daddy did his part by putting up a large tarp, attached to trees up high, covering our campfire to help keep it dry. It also gave us enough cover to crowd our chairs in around the fire below.

My cousin Rusty and my sister Linda hanging out around the campfire in the rain.

We talked and laughed, told stories, and thoroughly enjoyed our four days there. We were always joking that at least the rain soaked tarp didn’t stand much chance of catching on fire.

Chuck and I enjoying ourselves, too.

It was an unforgettable Thanksiving that me, my sisters, our spouses, and my cousins still love to relive through story telling.

Another time we loaded the motor home, my sister’s pop-up camper, and tents and went to a little private park on the Suwannee River north of Old Town. It was a KOA that is no longer there, but there are many other campgrounds along the long Suwannee.

Way Down Upon the Suwannee River.

I grew up camping all along the Suwannee River. I’ve slept in tents, several times out on the boat and one night even in a hammock. I was only 14, but even then in my youth the hammock gave me a backache. Mom and Dad were always inviting friends, and we kids always drew the short straw when it came to a free bed.

Camping on the Suwannee was magical. With over 200 springs, scads of sink holes and some of the prettiest scenery ever, there was never a dull moment.

Fanning Springs which feeds into the Suwanee

So my memory of the Thanksgiving near Old Town was another wonderful holiday. We walked down the sandy trails, huddled together over a campfire, and again gave thanks to God for all our blessings. It is now another treasured part of our memory collection.

We told Mama that she shouldn’t feed the deer. She listened to us about as well as we had listened to her.

So this Thanksgivng Chuck and I will have Thanksgiving dinner with my 94-year-old uncle, whom I’m so thankful to still have and who won’t be able to get out for an outing. But later I plan to suggest to Chuck that we make a point to take a good, long walk. I’m ready to do Thanksgivng with a walk in the woods somewhere.
I hope wherever you plan to be that you have a wonderful Thanksgiving, too!

Colorful, Beautiful Peru!

October 3, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Travel Leave a Comment

I saw a post on Peru with all black and white photos and decided to do a contrast. The post entitled, “Peru: The People You Meet”. The photographer did a wonderful job of capturing their souls in their faces, but to capture their colorful clothes you must have color. We made the trip, and below are some of our color photos as a contrast to those in black and white. The post on Peru: The People You Meet is here. Many are of the same places.

Below they showed us how they dyed their yarns.

The children liked to help and are taught very young.

Then we went to see how the Lake Titicaca island people lived. We first went to their kindergarten. The children sang us a song; and then they wanted us to sing to them, so we sang “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” They thought we were funny.

She was precious!

…and we were enthralled with their playground equipment. Everything, including their floating islands were made out of reeds.

The adults dressed as colorfully as the children.

Back on the mainland, we passed this girl walking between villages. She was carrying her baby on her back wrapped in a woolen blanket and tied to her.

This young boy’s mother asked us if we would like to have our picture taken with her son. Chuck took the pic, but after seeing this photo I’m not so sure her son really wanted his picture taken. You can see the city of Cusco in the distance below.

I’m not sure Mr. Llama liked having his picture taken either. He’s saying, “Does this lady not understand personal space!”

Finding Margaret on the Yankee Trace Road in Alabama

May 20, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Genealogy, Travel 2 Comments

Day before yesterday, I went looking for another ancestor. This one was John Wesley Roe’s in-laws, his wife Mary Ann Lovelady’s parents Solomon and Margaret Lovelady. After Mary Ann married John Wesley in 1853 in Gordon County, Georgia, her parents migrated on farther west to Lynn, Alabama, which today is in Winston County northwest of Birmingham.

Lynn is not the county seat, so I drove first to Double Springs to their library. I had trouble finding where to go online, but the library was easy to find as it was located out on US 278. Double Springs extended their city limits to include a village around an impoundment so I got to the city limit sign almost 2 or 3 miles before I got to the little downtown area, population less than 2,000. The library had a bicentennial book about the local people and their ancestors. There were several stories about Solomon and Margaret’s children but not such about the generation before, except one which I’ll describe later.

By the way if your ancestors were some of the first to an area or if their offspring stayed there, look for anything written in the area during our nation’s centennial and bicentennial celebrations. It will amaze you what you’ll find. It will mostly be stories passed down, but these can be important clues for what and where to look for more definitive research. Anything written during the centennial was written in 1876 so it could be first-hand information if the area was settled in the early 1800s.

The library also had about 20 copies of the local geneaological society’s newsletter which had lots of stories about local settlers, but it was not indexed. I did glean some info using the table of contents in each, but I’m sure I missed some. The evening before I had found a location for a grave on a road called the Yankee Trace Road, and I did run across a story about how the road got its name. I’ll explain later.

After the library, the librarian suggested I stop by their local archives. I had found nothing about this online; so I made a stop there, which was directly across the street from the courthouse. Along with more information, the archives lady gave me a very good county map showing where Sardis #1 Baptist Church is located. I lit out and drove straight to the grave of Margaret Whitthus Roe, my fourth great grandmother, who is buried at Sardis Baptist Church on the Yankee Trace Road.

Let me tell you about this road and the countryside through which it runs. The road is named Yankee Trace because it was one of the routes taken by a portion of General James Harrison Wilson’s Union Calvary, when it was on its way to the Battle of Selma where later Lt. General Nathan Bedford Forrest was outmanned, outgunned, and defeated. This Calvary battle was fought in March 1865 and is known as Wilson’s Ride famous for being commanded by one of the youngest generals in history. It is also known as one of the largest Calvary assemblies in history if not the largest. I guess that is what it took to finally defeat the Wizard of the Saddle.

I wonder where the family was when this group of men rode down this road. I also wonder if their foraging units made it to the Lovelady homestead which I believe was a little over three miles away.

The countryside here is very pretty. This is Alabama hill country, and the hills are not small hills. The road sides are especially beautiful this time of year with Queen Anne’s Lace growing wild. As cars pass, the wildflowers roll in the wakes made by the wind. I kept noticing pink roses growing wild in the woods, until I finally stopped and took a picture. I think it is a wild climbing rose.

The Sardis #1 Baptist Cemetery is located on US 17 which is also known as the Yankee Trace Road. The cemetery sits high on a hill next to the church which has sweeping views of the countryside below. The road curls around the cemetery. I wondered how loud the Union Calvary was when it passed here in 1865.

I quickly found Margaret’s grave and took a picture. Then I just took a moment to stand and gaze at the views from high atop this hill. What a beautiful place to go to rest.

It appears that sometime between her marriage and this grave, her name was changed from Whitthus to White. The marriage record shows her maiden name as Whitthus. Someone had placed a newer marker at the base of the older one with the basic information that was on the older stone.

I found no grave for Solomon, which brings me to the story found in their bicentennial book. It said that according to family tradition Solomon became ill and died while he was with a son who was moving to Tennessee. They said he is buried in Wayne County, Tennessee.

So let me try to put this into perspective. If he died on this trip then it had to be after 1880 where I found him in the Winston County census. He was 79 and his wife was 59.

I think I must have good genes because this man made that trip over the age of 80 when there was no interstate and when the only way to travel was by either horseback or wagon. He must have thought he was healthy enough for the trip. Wayne, Tennessee is 120 miles north of Lynn, Alabama. At about 20 miles a day it took them at least six days to make the journey.

Since Margaret died in 1881 at the age of 60 (I’m glad I have Solomon’s genes, too), I’m wondering if he moved because she was gone and there was less of a reason to stay.

I also found a possible homestead area. Some archive maps showed where some of the earliest settlers lived. There were three Lovelady homesteads in the names of three of his sons. I felt certain that one of those was Solomon and Margaret’s original homestead. One of the homesteads I drove to was over 8 miles away actually closer to 10, and I felt certain this was not where Solomon and Margaret lived.

Another one that I didn’t drive to was all the way on the other side of the county which was even farther away. The one I think that they lived in was only 3.5 miles away from Sardis. I drove to this land using the county map and a copy of the county plat map showing where the Lovelady land was. I took some pictures of where I believed it to be. It was an educated guess at best. I have been in touch with a Lovelady cousin who may have better information. He is who posted Margaret’s grave on Find A Grave.

It is a beautiful area with a creek running through the bottom. It looked like bottomland around the creek, and today it is in pasture. it was probably a good place to raise crops. We have had a lot of rain lately, so the creek was muddy.

I traveled the two lane road and later gravel road which ran between the church and where they lived. How exciting it must have been for the entire family to go to church and have dinner on the grounds, something that was not done weekly. It was usually an all day affair and one of the few times that the family got to visit with others in their community.

Their homestead was way out in the country, and the little road ran high over hills and down into the deep draws crossing little creeks at natural fords. Today it is a little canopy road in places. It must’ve been as beautiful back then as I found it today.

Finally, thanks to one of the books, I think I know how they got here. The original trail into this area was known as the High Town Indian Path. It ran from old Charles Town on the Atlantic Ocean to the Chickasaw Bluffs which today is Memphis, Tennessee. It was a trading path used by the Indians and later by the European explorers, trappers, and traders. It followed a divide, a ridge, where water falling north of it ran into the Tennessee River while water falling south ran toward the Gulf of Mexico at Mobile. The same trail crossed North Georgia close to where the family lived before they migrated west to Alabama. This trail later became a wagon road.

Today, one can still hike parts of this trail in the Bankhead National Forest in Winston County. It is said that Davy Crockett used this trail during the Creek Indian War of 1812. The halfway point on the trail was the Indian village called High Town near current day Rome, Georgia.

When my Great Great Grandfather Was Imprisoned

May 17, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Genealogy, Travel 3 Comments

All week long I’ve been at the National Genealogical Society’s Annual Conference in St. Charles, Missouri. It has been a great week, and I have learned so much about conducting genealogical research.

On Tuesday after Chuck flew back to Florida, I took a little trip across the Mississippi River to Alton, Illinois. I went there to search for the military prison where my great-great-grandfather John Wesley Roe was imprisoned during the Civil war.

I found Alton, Illinois to be a very interesting and pretty city. It sits directly on the east bank of the Mississippi. Near the water is a factory, and later I found out they make flour there. There are many silos around the plant. Once in the streets, though, you do not notice the plant down on the water. They have done a good job of fixing up their waterfront areas.

I drove directly to the corner of Broadway and William Street, which is a street that runs behind the building at the end of the street in the photo above. Up William Street and to the left was a small patch of ground next to a public parking lot. On this ground stood the ruin of a wall, a block wall. This is all that is left today of the Alton prison.

I know from research that this is where John Wesley Roe and his two brothers were taken after being captured. John Wesley was 32, and the other two were 28 and 22.

All three men fought under the 36th Georgia as privates. In a heavy skirmish outside of Calhoun, Georgia around 6 p.m. on May 16, 1864, 1,470 Army of Tennessee Confederates were captured during fighting on that day. John Wesley Roe’s brothers Columbus and William were two of those men.

The following day May 17, 1864 John Wesley himself was captured. All three of the Roe men were now prisoners of war. It occurred to me that John Wesley may not have wanted to go home to his mother after leaving his two younger brothers with the Yankees. Like me, he was the oldest.

All three were sent to this prison in Alton, Illinois. They arrived here on May 23, 1864. The prison had been abandoned before the war but had been reopened.

From stories I’ve read of veterans who were brought here, it appears that they came to this place by rail. Since John Wesley and his brothers were probably first taken to Chattanooga, though and since the Tennessee River runs from there all the way to the Mississippi, I’m wondering if they may have been brought here by ship. Both were possible.

John Wesley and his brothers William and Columbus, who was also known as Barefoot, survived their time at this prison. When they first got here, there were about 6,000 other prisoners. Bunks were seven high, and the men slept three to a bunk. I imagine the three brothers shared a bunk and tried to keep each other warm during those cold winter nights. Bed bugs and lice were a constant harassment.

The kiosks did a good job of explaining what prison life was like here. The boys found the prison overcrowded and its sanitation inadequate. Conditions in the prison were harsh, and the mortality rate was above average for a Union prison. There was a constant fear of dysentery, pneumonia, and small pox. Poor nourishment and inadequate clothing were common. The only exercise they got was while wearing a ball and chain on work detail.

They got here in the spring so hopefully the weather was pleasant; but the hot, humid summer conditions that followed probably seemed like hell to these north Georgia mountain boys. The following cold mid-western winter was probably rough because of their inadequate clothing.

The boys were here about eight months, until sometime just before February of 1865, when they were parolled and transferred for exchange at the Bouleware and Cox Wharves in James River, Virginia. The actual exchange, though, didn’t take place until between May 6 and 9th, 1865 at the end of the war. Somewhere while in route, President Lincoln was as killed in April. I wonder when they heard the news.

I took lots of pictures including a self portrait sitting in one of the windows. I wondered if one of the boys might have set here, too.

Then I found a little restaurant right around the corner and enjoyed my lunch. While I was eating my sandwich and salad, I remembered what the kiosk had said about food being a problem. Here I sat in a much better time and a much better place while 149 years ago hardly a block away my great-great-grandfather and his brothers never got enough to eat. One of the veterans remembered that he was always hungry.

My greater east grandpa John Wesley Roe returned from the war to his wife and five children. In 1866, he had another son who he named after his two brothers William and Columbus. William Columbus Roe is my great grandfather. I don’t have a picture of John Wesley, but below is one of his son William Columbus.

Just up the hill from where the small little park now sits with its ruin, once stood the entire prison. It looked down on the Mississippi River about two blocks away. My grandfather and his brothers probably stood at its windows and looked longingly at the river flowing south, wondering if they would ever get back to their homes in Georgia.

Never Been to Peducah?

May 12, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Genealogy, Travel 4 Comments

This is a continuation of the story of William H. Andrews who was with the 4th Florida Regiment during the Civil War. He was wounded and then captured at the Battle of Stones River. When his unit retreated along with the rest of Bragg’s army, William was left behind and taken prisoner by the Union troops.

Most of Sunday was spent driving, but we did answer one question about William before leaving Nashville. As you’ll remember, we knew that during the Civil War he was moved from a hospital in Murfreesboro to a hospital in Nashville. We planned to do some research at Nashville’s Public Library to see if we could find where he was taken there.

Here are highlights of our day on Sunday.

1. Finding in Nashville where the Union took Prisoners of War who were wounded and needed medical care.

Actually, we didn’t find this information in the Nashville Library. I found it online early Sunday morning. I went online to search for what might be available at the library in preparation for later. Instead, I stumbled on the information in an article which discussed the burials of wounded Confederate prisoners of war who died in Nashville hospitals.

It said that Confederate prisoners were usually treated at Hospital No. 1, which consisted of a converted church and a former gun factory at the current intersection of Third Avenue South (formerly College Street) and the westbound I-265 on ramp. The article was fairly old.

So we went in search of the site. First we looked for I-265 and 3rd Street Avenue South. We found where the latter almost intersected an interstate, but it wasn’t 265 or even 65. In fact there didn’t seem to be a 265 anywhere. We asked someone, and they said that what is now I-40, used to be I-265.

So we drove down there, but found nothing but buildings that were built at a much later date. It seemed to be an industrial area. The area set right next to the on ramp, so we were sure we had found the site. We took a picture, hopped on the interstate and began driving north to St. Louis, where I planned to attend the National Genealogical Society conference next Wednesday.

2. Who is William?

One of my readers asked me for more information on William. William is a secondary, but an important secondary character in my book. He is Mary Adeline Walker’s husband. His full name is William H. Andrews; and he and Mary are my great-great-great grandparents through my Grandfather Lester Hamrick’s lineage.

I am still learning about William, but here is what we know. William was born in 1811 in Georgetown, Washington, DC. It appears that his parents owned a retail establishment there, possibly a tavern and inn. We are not sure where William was educated, but we have a copy of his handwriting. It is beautiful, so we feel certain he was an educated man. Below is a copy of a page from the 1850 Jefferson County Census. He was the census enumerator. There is still much research needed on him prior to his move to Florida, but it won’t be needed for this book because this book is mostly about Mary and the settling of middle Florida.

We know that William was in Florida by 1825, because he shows up in Leon County territorial census prior to that date. Jefferson County, where we know he lived later, was not established and was a part of Leon County, Florida at that time. By 1842, one of his daughters was christened in the Monticello Presbyterian Church, so we know that the family had moved to Monticello by that date. His wife died, and we next find him through a marriage certificate when he married Mary A. Walker late in 1843.

In the records are several bonding papers for several different appointments, including Justice of the Peace, Deputy Sheriff and County Auctioneer. Later in the 1850s he was elected Sheriff of Jefferson County. He was also a railroad agent for a length of time. His home was near the Bellamy Plantation on what is today Bassett’s Dairy Road, though we know he also lived in Monticello on several occasions.

In 1861 he was Sergeant of Arms in the Florida House of Representatives, and he was present when Florida seceded from the nation and joined the Confederacy. He enlisted soon after and was placed in the 4th Florida at the age of 49.

He already had five children when he married Mary, and by the time of the War they had had ten more. Several of his sons also went to War.

I’ll stop here, because any further information will be a spoiler for the book.

3. Finding Paducah, Kentucky

We didn’t need to stop here for any genealogy work, but it was a halfway point between Nashville and St. Louis. We drove into their downtown area to dine and take a walk after dinner. The town sits at the confluence of the Tennessee and Ohio Rivers. The riverfront was a wonderful place to take an evening stroll. There is a flood wall that has been painted with murals, and they are wonderful. There are plaques which explain what you’re seeing. It is a walk through Paducah’s history, which is very colorful. Chuck and I were glad that we visited. Neither of us had ever been to Paducah.

Oh Hey, Friday!! Check Out Our Trip Across the Gulf South

February 13, 2015 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Travel 2 Comments

This is in response to September Farm and her “Oh Hey, Friday”, where she asks her readers/bloggers to write up a little post about five things–anythings.

Chuck and I were in Bayfield, Colorado, where we were living for a month. We got there after driving all the way from Florida, stopping to sightsee and visit relatives along the way.

Here’s my five highlights as we crossed the southern states of Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas.

1. If you have never been to the Flora-Bama Lounge, you have missed the ultimate “beach bar”. Chuck and I decided to drive coast roads on our way to Bayfield, and we stopped here about 4 pm on a Sunday for a true slice of Americana and a gin and tonic. Located on the Florida/Alabama state line on Perdido Key, in one hall there was an old classic country trio playing and singing. The female lead singer did Patsy Cline songs and was great. In another hall was a band doing southern rock. Downstairs in the open air bar was a third band. We left Perdido Key by ferry crossing Mobile Bay and arriving on Dauphin Island, Alabama.

2. In Biloxi the coast road runs by the Hurricane Katrina Monument. We stopped to take a look. The memorial at 22 feet high is as tall as the storm surge that ravaged this beach city. In the glass case is a collage of items salvaged in the clean-up–a kid’s baseball trophy, a broken ship’s wheel, pieces of china, a weathered book, and hundreds more. On the black polished granite stone are etched names of the deceased. It is sobering, especially to those of us who live near the waters edge and have to contend with the possibility of one of these monstrous storms.

3. When we crossed the state line driving from Mississippi into Louisiana, we drove west on old US 90. This is a stretch of road that time forgot. There was hardly any traffic, and the road or bridges haven’t been repaired in a long time. We loved the old metal bridges, which reminded Chuck and I of our childhood. This is truly a wonderful stretch of blue highway. By the way before interstates, US 90 was the ultimate highway for crossing the American south. It ran from Jacksonville Beach, Florida all the way to Los Angeles, California. I grew up on US 90 in a little north Florida town called Monticello, and it was always a busy highway. Imagine how much traffic this old road used to see.

4. Another stretch of highway that time forgot runs as close to the coast as you can get between Abbeville, Louisiana and Port Arthur, Texas. It reminded us of crossing the Florida Everglades on the Tamiami Trail when we were young. Hardly any traffic, no homes, no stores, no gas stations, and very little room to even pull off the road, SR 82 is raised and runs between marshes until you get to a seaside oil town named Cameron, LA., which was ravaged by another hurricane and the evidence remains. Then we crossed a major canal on a ferry, and the scenery changed to miles of cattle pastures on one side and beaches on the other side. We crossed into Texas just before Port Arthur, whose downtown is a ghost town, literally. It had a lot of abandoned multi-story buildings. By the way we googled to read about these areas. You won’t find any tourist signs for information. Remember these are areas that time has forgotten.

5. This is where we decided to turn north, because we are after all headed to Colorado. We love to see other state’s farming communities, so we headed across East Texas driving on their little roads that are marked “Farm Roads”. East Texas looks like central north Florida with rolling hills, oak trees, lots of pine forests, red clay and sand. Best stop though was Hemphill, TX with its NASA museum. This is the tiny town where the Shuttle Discovery’s debris came down, including the bodies of its seven astronauts. Their story is amazing, and it will touch your heart. This may be the best stop of our entire trip; this little town of about 5,000 people with its courthouse square and its amazing story about how a little town took care of 20,000 volunteers for 16 days.

Well, that’s my five! The drive took us a week, but we’re retired so what’s a week??

Why I’m Stressing Over Hurricane Irma & Marco Island

October 28, 2014 by oldageisnotforsissies54 Filed Under: Family Life, Travel 4 Comments

We just watched the massive Hurricane Irma rake over Marco Island on Florida’s west coast. We’re worried.

Chuck and I were dating when he first told me about this special room he had had at the Marco Island Marriott. I stayed at that hotel about twelve years earlier when it was newer. I wondered if the hotel still had the charm I found back in 1976 when I was a 22-year old executive secretary working for a flash in the pan lobbying and association management firm called Pulse, Inc. By Chuck’s description, it was.

> He described the room as a two-bedroom suite overlooking a wide beach with its stairs leading down to a restaurant nearby. I tried to picture it in my mind, but my room while there in the mid-70s was called a Villa, and I didn’t remember any second floors in that part of the hotel.

> Chuck and I continued to date, married and spent the next twenty-five years coming to this room at the Marco Island Marriott. Our children grew up coming with us to Lanai Suite 193, and now they are bringing their children. The hotel later named it the Bora Bora Suite.

> There are so many stories and so many memories, like the day I decided to send a load of clothes to the laundry and they billed us $79. I was afraid to tell Chuck how stupid I had been. Or the time our son figured out that his room key was a blank check to anything he wanted to do at the resort. That bill included an ice cream party for him and some of his buddies at the little ice cream shop on the premises. He said, “just order what you like, the hotel is free for my family”. It wasn’t; we were just on an expense account. He obviously didn’t realize that only Chuck’s carefully weighed expenses were reimbursed.

> Chuck’s mother came frequently over the years, and we were floored one day when she showed up after being missed for over an hour with a picture of her dangling from a para-sail. She was 78 years old, wore the room’s clear shower cap to keep her beautiful gray, quaffed hairdo from getting wet, and charged the $75 to our room. I guess she thought it was free, like our son. Chuck, also known as the wallet by our kids, paid the tab anyway, overjoyed by the spontaneity of his mom.

>The last year we were there my sister and her two daughters came, and my other sister’s daughter made the trip several times, too. The room is bigger than some people’s homes. It has two very large bedrooms, and you could parallel park a semi in its long living room with its wall of windows overlooking the beach. There is a large conference size dining room table that will seat 10 to 12 comfortably, The suite even has its own gym with a treadmill that we never use, because why would you run on that thing when a walk on the beach is right out your door.

> Our bath attached to the master bedroom is bigger than most RVs. The jacuzzi tub is too big for just one person, and you can shower five giggling girls at one time in the walk in shower with its six jets and overhead rain shower.

> The kitchen is in a room by itself with a microwave and frig. We bring lots of soft drinks, snacks, and quick foods for the kids who dine in mostly throughout the week. We even bring a blender and make our own piña coladas using fresh pineapple, milk, coconut extract, bananas, ice, and rum. We usually have at least one dinner there with colleagues who have been coming to this conference as long as we have. Like ours, all their kids grew up meeting each summer at the Marco Marriott.

> We have been through three renovations and redecorations. When we first started coming here, the room was decorated in tropical greens and blues with a limestone floor. Now it is British colonial island with golds and navy and muted orange and a yellow marble floor,

> We’ve slept much more than the six that the beds sleep, with kids on the floor everywhere in sleeping bags. Last year all three kids came with their spouses and our six grandchildren and my sisters and her girls. We had to finally break down and get another room for the overflow.

> 2014 was special, though, because the unthinkable happened. After 28 years of staying in this room, the Marriott told us that the hotel would go through a full renovation of the lanais and the meeting rooms. We would have to have our conference somewhere else in Florida. We chose another Marriott in Orlando, but that wasn’t the biggest program.

> From their description of what would happen during the renovation, we thought that Lanai Room 193 may no longer exist, or at least in its current form. It looked as if they might tear the building down and put in a multi-story building. If it is like the other suites in the hotel, it might become a penthouse higher in the air. They asked us for years if we would like to stay in one of the penthouses in the two towers, but I’ve seen them and this room because of its location is the pick of the litter.

>I remember our last week there, and it was one filled with much nostalgia.

A fisheye view from the Bora Bora Suite looking northwest.

> All those years, all those meetings, all those friends, all those family members, some of which have since passed. Chuck’s mom passed over five years ago, as have both of my parents. One of the nieces passed away. Now Chuck and I are 73 and 63 respectively and are both gray.

Walking to dinner on Marco Island.

Then we found out that the room would exist when we returned only renovated. We were thrilled. It was good news indeed.

We were supposed to return to Marco last July for the conference, but the meetings rooms were unfinished. It will be 2018’before we return, and now Hurricane Irma’s eye crossed the island. We’re wondering how the room did.

The Marco Marriott is on its west coast, on a beautiful wide beach. But the Bora Bora suite is right at beach level. I’m sure Irma has filled it with beach water and sand.

A view due west from the Bora Bora Suite.

Like everything else, I guess Linai 193 must pass, too. Then again it might get totally renovated. We’ll know next July at the conference which is planned again for the Marco Marriott.

I wish all our friends who work there all the best in this ugly storm.

Sunsets on Marco Island are the best!

OLD AGE IS NOT FOR SISSIES

NOTHING IN LIFE IS TO BE FEARED